Yearning
by eyesdyedblack
Summary: WARNING: Contains no violence. Okay, I was in an extremely sappy mood so I wrote this little one shot about Ron's feelings towards Hermione.


_I know, I know, I am so not the fuzzy type but I figured that once in a while, you have to write about something nice. This is a nice little one-shot describing Ron's feelings towards a certain bushy-haired witch that might just have a happy ending._

**Yearning**

Ron often watched her while she was working. The way her head bent over her parchment, quill scribbling furiously on the page, quickly filling it with information about whatever they had been learning in class. Harry worked solidly beside him, occasionally turning to him and asking him why he wasn't doing any work. The answer was simple. For years Ron had put off doing his own assignments in preference to watching Hermione do hers. She assumed he was dumb, lazy, not willing to work but the real reason he never did his homework was because during the time he had to do it she was there with him, in that same pose, head bent over her work. Occasionally she would look up from her work over at he and Harry and she would frown at him for not working and he would turn back to his own parchment and for a few moments he would flick through one of his books, absorbing nothing that was written on the pages.

They were always fighting. In the earlier years Ron figured their lack of friendship was due to the fact that they were so different. In their first year he had often called her a know-it-all or other things to that respect. Now, in their sixth year he still used those terms when describing her and yet, he knew it was only out of habit.

She told Harry and Ron on numerous occasions that she thought she was not pretty. Ron knew where she could have been so easily misguided. She shared a dormitory with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil; girls who spent a large majority of their lives perfecting the way they looked, spoke and dressed. Hermione never worried about those things. But he always wondered how she could compare herself to such girls. To Ron, Hermione was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Earlier that night she had asked the boys whether when they had finished their essays for Snape, if they would like to play a game of cards. Now, she lay down her quill, rolled up her parchment and placed both in the bag she always carried about with her these days. She wandered over to where the boys sat and when he looked over at Harry, Ron noticed he had done the same thing with his essay and was pulling out a deck of cards. Hermione asked Harry if he had finished before turning to Ron. She looked down at him and he almost felt guilty when he told her he had not finished. She scolded him when she saw he had only written one paragraph and out of habit, he spoke back to her with an insult describing her as someone who has nothing better to do than work. He could have kicked himself when he saw the hurt flash in her brown eyes but he made no move to apologise. Harry frowned at him before walking with Hermione over to where she was sitting before and laying out the cards. He wanted more than anything to go over to where she sat and tell her that every mean thing he ever said to her was a lie. He often wanted to do that. Lately she had begun to take everything he said to heart and the fact alone that she did not fight back anymore only made him feel worse. Harry asked him once, when they were alone in the common room one night, when he was going to tell Hermione exactly how he felt about her. He told Harry he didn't know what he was talking about and that he had the wrong end of the stick completely but Harry had merely nodded and stared into the fire, giving Ron the distinct impression that he believed nothing of what was just said.

He turned back to his essay and flicked his quill against the page, reading over what he had already written but found himself reading the same paragraph over and over again. An hour went by and Ron found himself more distracted than usual as Hermione and Harry were laughing together over their game and once, she even beckoned Harry towards her and whispered something in his ear causing him to smile at her before turning back to the game. Ron quickly finished his essay, knowing that he would receive very poor marks for it, and headed straight up to bed, bidding neither Harry nor Hermione goodnight, the twinge of jealousy in his stomach becoming greater with each step he took.

Laying in the darkness, Ron heard each Dean, Neville, Seamus and Harry come to bed before pulling the drapes that surrounded his bed open and crossing to the door before heading downstairs to the common room. Everybody had gone to bed now and Ron selected the armchair closest to the fire that was now beginning to go out and stared at the last of the flickering flames for close to an hour. As the last flame began to die, he knew he should go back to his own dormitory but something kept him there. And a minute later, he felt a soft hand laid on his own and a beautiful, familiar voice spoke his name.

**Oh God, spare me lol. I was in a sappy mood so I decided to write this. Please don't kill me!!!**


End file.
